The worst detention
by Julie
Summary: As Voldemort powers grow, so do the evilness and daring of those who believe in him.


"Sour faced, nasty, supercilious git," Ginny Weasley muttered  
to herself as she viciously twisted the damp washrag inside the  
cauldron's belly. "I'd put a gallon on him against a Dementor  
any day." She tossed the rag aside and angled the cauldron  
directly under the wall torch's weak flame, inspecting it with a  
critical gaze. It looked clean to her, and Molly Weasley's only  
daughter prided herself on knowing when you could eat off  
something. She then haphazardly tossed it to the floor (it  
already had a number of dents and scratches) and grabbed a  
replacement.  
All this, just for being a few minutes late to class,   
Ginny thought, her indignation flaring to life again. That, and  
her flame red hair were the only things that were warm in the  
Potion Master's dungeon. He must have already been in a snit  
about something or (else he decided he was behind in his  
equipment cleaning) for as soon as she scurried threw his class  
room door, he taunted her. "Ah, Miss Weasley, so kind of you to  
join us. I hope my class is not interfering in your social  
life."   
The fifth year Slytherins snickered. Harry had worried about  
asking her to the Yuletide dance because of Voldemort (she'd  
picked up Harry's habit of referring to him by name - boy, did it  
freak out her brothers). He should have worried about Snape.   
Ginny scampered into her seat just as he was taking ten points  
off Gryffindor-I am so surprised-when Melissa Berry decided to  
stir things up.  
"I saw her on the grounds with Potter this morning - they  
were in the maze."  
The class erupted with snickers, whispers and even a cat  
call from a Slytherin. Ginny's face flamed.  
"Ah," Snape exclaimed softly. "Lost track of time during  
your . . . rendezvous."  
"We were not in the maze and that's not why I was late,"  
Ginny retorted hotly, forgetting that the first rule of a  
Gryffindor in Snape's personal torture hour was to keep your  
mouth shut. "A bowl of fruit was transfigured into a bunch of  
mice. A first year went hysterical. I was trying to calm her  
down and lost track of time. Go ask Professor McGonagall if you  
don't believe me. She heard the screaming." Ginny looked at   
Melissa's smug expression and the words spilled from her mouth  
before she could stop them. "She's just mad because I made her  
look incompetent at the last Quidditch match. If wasn't any  
effort."  
There was complete silence. Most of the class were looking  
at Ginny as if she'd started speaking Parseltongue. Melissa  
looked, Ginny took some satisfaction from this, like she'd bitten  
in a juicy apple and pulled out a fat worm. School opinion about  
Ginny pretty much summed her up as wimpy -- a girl you could  
push around if not for her protective older brothers and Harry  
Potter. But then, a lot of students were dunderheads. Ginny was  
quite the lioness if she had cause.   
"Detention, Miss Weasley," Snape surveyed her as if she was a  
most unsatisfactory piece of garbage. "Now sit down, I've already  
wasted enough time on you."  
Ginny sat.  
And that is how she came to be in Snape's dungeon instead of  
sitting with Harry, Hermonie and Ron in the best chairs, right by  
the fire in the Gryffindor common room.   
At least she enjoyed the applause from her house when she  
climbed into the tower after classes.   
"Did you really call Snape a sour, smelly old windbag only  
good for carrying dirty laundry," Ron was looked increduouly at  
his sister.  
"No, I didn't."  
"The way people gossip," Hermonie stuck her noise in the  
air. "I told you Ginny would never say that to a teacher - even  
Snape."  
"I didn't say anything to him. It was Melissa Berry I told  
off. She's just jealous because Gryffindor beat them and  
because were going to win the cup two years in a row and because  
I'm a better Quidditch player than she is."  
"Our family house elf is a better player than Missy Berry," a  
third years snorted.   
"She's certainly not as good as you, Ginny," Hermonie said  
stoutly. Ron didn't say anything but he nodded in agreement.   
Ginny could have burst. There had been a few snide remarks when  
Harry, the Gryffindor team captain, made her a chaser last year.   
What was worse was Ron's devastation. It was bad enough he  
wasn't on the team when his best friend was the captain, but to  
put his younger sister on the team. Ron hadn't spoke to Harry  
for three days.   
"I'm sorry I made you late for class," Harry Potter had  
waited until most of the class had dispersed before approaching  
Ginny.  
She sighed, "it's not your fault, not really. I had plenty  
of time, but then I got distracted by a hysterical first year.."  
"Detention," he asked.  
She nodded gloomily.  
"The dungeons."  
She nodded again. "I guess I have to miss practice today."  
"Careful," Harry teased, "some might claim your using your  
feminine wiles on the team captain."  
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "I have  
feminine wiles."  
"Well," he seemed to be considered it, "maybe one of two."  
Ron cleared his throat. "If you are done trying to seduce  
my sister, Harry, we'd better head for dueling class." In an  
attempt to better prepare the students to deal with Death Eaters,  
mandatory dueling classes had been instituted. As sixth years,  
Ron, Harry and Hermonie were expected to attend four classes a  
week. "Snape teaching this one. I don't think we should be  
late." He clapped a hand on Harry's arm. "I don't suppose you  
could figure a way to sic a snake on him."  
Harry looked at Ginny's miserable face. "I'll figure out  
something."  
  
************************************************************  
"Quite the little maid. You might have a future career in  
scrubbing, Weasley."  
Ginny swung around to see Dacro Malfoy loitering in the  
doorway. "What are you doing here?"  
"I wanted the distinct pleasure of seeing Potter's  
girlfriend scrubbing her fingers to the bone."  
Ginny supposed he'd heard about this afternoon from the  
fifth year Slytherins.  
"You don't have anything better to do that gloat over my  
detention." She shuddered delicately. "How pathetic."  
He advanced further into the room. "I suppose I could be at  
Quidditch practice," he snarled, "except," he smacked a hand  
against the wall, "I'm not on the team anymore."  
Ginny felt her heart beat faster. Malfoy was acting . . .  
strange. His eyes were glazed, his cheeks stained red. He  
reminded her of her Uncle Billius after he'd had his 'wee night  
cap'. Hogwarts students were not allowed to drink alcohol, but  
we're talking about Malfoy.  
"There's not much to see here," Ginny started to slide  
toward the table where her wand was. With all the trouble  
recently, her parents had told their children to keep their wands  
with them at all times.   
Malfoy intercepted her. "Nice wand," tauntingly he held it  
just out of reach.  
"Give it to me," she snapped  
"What is your core? A featherduster."  
"None of your business. I'm warning you Malfoy," Ginny  
shook a finger at him, then realized that's what her mother did.   
"A unicorn."  
"No."  
Dacro examined the wand. "Dragon heartstring."  
Ginny fixed her mouth in a smile. "Do the gene pool a favor  
and throw yourself off the highest tower."  
He grinned ferally. "A phoenix feather, how very romantic."  
Ginny didn't bother to ask how he knew about Harry's wand.   
"I bet that surprised the hell out of Volmorte."  
Malfoy didn't seem to like what she dared to say. "Keep this  
up and you and Potter will end up sharing a coffin. He's dead  
you know. A walking corpse."  
Ginny leaned back and kicked, hard, at Malfoy's shine. She  
did, after all have six brothers. "I told you to give me my  
wand. Give it to me and get out!"  
Later, Ginny would remember these next few minutes with a  
detachment of emotion she didn't think she was capable of.   
Later, she would realize she lost her little girl naivete to  
Draco Malfoy. Even after the Triwizard Tournament, it took  
Malfoy to teach that her that bad things can happen anywhere.   
Malfoy snapped. Fast and not without skill, he backhanded  
Ginny. He was tall and strong. She stumbled backward, bumping  
hard into the wall. Two dozen pewter cauldrons crashed down upon  
her ankles. Malfoy pulled out his wand.  
"Stupify." Ginny was hit with the spell full force.   
"Stupify," he shouted again. Twice in one minute, Ginny couldn't  
have gotten to her feet if Voldemort apparated in front of her.   
  
Malfoy launched himself at her, grabbing a mass of her long hair,  
twisting it around his fingers like a sick parody of Ginny  
cleaning the cauldrons. "Not so brave now," his eyes glinted and  
she could smell the liqueur on his breath. She still couldn't  
move. "No Potter to save you. He's out on the Quidditch field,"  
he spat the word at her and the part of her brain that was still  
functioning remembered he had lost his position as Slytherin  
Seeker.  
She tried to push herself upward. His hands began pulling at  
her robe. "I will admit Weasley, you are very pretty. And  
pure blood." His fingers found her jean's zipper. "I'll give  
credit to Potter on that score."  
Ginny drew a deep breath and screamed. Malfoy laughed,  
nearly hysterically. "Nobody can hear you down here." He  
struggled to pull her jeans down, his neck and face beat red.   
The shock returned some of her strength. She began to claw at  
his face. He grabbed her wrist, twisting it back. Ginny let  
loose a blood curdling scream.   
"Didn't I just tell you, you stupid bitch," Malfoy panted,  
"nobody can hear you down here." The words were barely out of  
his mouth when he was hit with horrible, overwhelming pain. The  
last thing he saw before he passed out was Professor Snape  
standing over him, his wand raised.   
Appearing miraculously like a scowling, black cloaked angel,  
was the Potion's master. Ginny looked at him out of teary eyes  
and wished for oblivion.   
He knelt down. "Are you hurt?" His eyes took in her  
dishabille. She blinked at him. His hand moved as if to touch  
her, then stopped. For once, he didn't have the least idea what  
to do. He decided he needed some help. "I'm going to go get  
someone. Just stay here and I'll be back in a minute."   
Ginny looked at Malfoy. Snape's lips cracked into a  
humorless smile. "He isn't going anywhere."   
He got up to leave, Ginny grabbed his robe, "please, can you  
get Harry," she whispered.  
  
*****************************************************************  
The few students on the main floor courtyard gaped in  
astonishment as Professor Snape (ran) threw the doors. "You," he  
pointed his wand at a terrified looking first year Hufflepuff.   
"Go to the Quidditch field and tell Harry Potter to go to the  
infirmary."  
The Hufflepuff quaked in his robes. "Surely you know who  
Potter is," Snape snapped. "Tell him it's an emergency. And  
you, he zeroed in on the fourth year Ravenclaw trying to hide  
behind a large potted plant. "Go get Professor McGonagall. Tell  
her I said to go to the infirmary. If these people are not where  
I want them to be in twenty minutes you will all rue the day you  
came to Hogwarts." He turned his back on the students, who after  
one minute, all took off in different directions. Snape headed  
for the infirmary. To his great relief, Madame Pomfrey was  
there.   
"Professor Snape," her eyes took in his disheveled  
appearance. "What's happened."  
He closed the door. "Dacro Malfoy tried to rape Ginny  
Weasley," he said simply.  
"What," shock nearly overwhelmed her. Rape was nearly  
unheard of in the magical community. Muggles yes, but . . .   
what is the world coming too. "He wasn't successful," she asked.  
"No, she's got some cuts and bruises. She's down in the  
dungeons."  
Pomfey grabbed a warm blanket and her wand. She looked at  
Snape sharply. "Who's with her." He just looked at her.  
"You didn't leave her . . ." her voice trailed off.  
"I didn't know what else to do," he bit the words off. "She  
hates me. I would have just made everything worse. I'm going  
for Dumbledore."  
Pomfrey didn't say another word.  
  
*****************************************************************  
  
"I don't believe it. I can't believe it,' Professor  
McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house, paced the length of the  
room.   
"I witnessed the attack myself," Snape told her.  
Minerva took a deep breath. She had to get hold of  
herself. She had a responsibility to the students. Rape, she  
shuddered, Muggles raped each other. The crime was nearly  
unheard of in the magical community. Grimly she reminded herself  
that this . . . abomination had occurred with more frequency when  
the Dark Lord was in power and now that he was back she would  
just have to get use to such things happening again.  
"Which students." For her to be here then one of them must  
surely be a Gryffindor.  
"Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley."  
Her lips twitched. "That makes sense." God, she was so  
tired to Harry receiving bad news. 'Where's Malfoy."  
"I've confined him to my office," Professor Snape said.  
"Miss Weasley is with Madame Pomfrey."  
"Good," Professor McGonagall said briskly. "Have the  
Weasleys and the proper authorities been contacted?"  
"The Weasleys will be told, of course, but I don't want any  
other owls sent concerning this matter."  
"But Albus," Minerva turned on him. "Miss Weasley will need  
to give a statement and Poppy is not qualified to do the physical  
exam. Perhaps St. Mungo hospital can recommend someone."   
Dumbledore just looked at her with those ancient eyes and the  
penny dropped.  
"Except that is not going to happen," she said softly.  
"Minerva, considering the political climate," Dumbledore  
said then stopped as Harry Potter entered the room.   
Carrying his precious firebolt (he would have only trusted it  
with Ron or Hermione and neither were at practice), Harry took a  
second to peak around the room before entering. He'd been  
cooling his heels for ten minutes, waiting for somebody to come  
and talk to him. Well, nothing was on fire, no bodies were  
littering the floor, and his scar felt fine, so surely it  
couldn't be that bad. Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall and  
Professor Snape all turned to stare at him. He immediately  
changed his mind about the seriously of the situation. Professor  
Snape's eyes flashed more dangerously than usual and Professor  
McGonagall's face was white. "What's wrong?"  
Albus Dumbledore opened his mouth, then closed it as if he  
didn't know what to say. Harry's stomach dropped. Just then,  
Professor Sprout entered the room.   
"Is something going on, Professor?" Amelia Sprout, a short,  
plump witch asked. "One of my first years seems to think he is  
going to fail potions because it took him five minutes to fetch  
Harry Potter off his broomstick. He hyperventilating right now."  
She shot a dirty look at Professor Snape.  
"Amelia, I'll explain everything later. There has been an  
incident with a Slytherin and a Gryffindor. Tell him Professor  
Snape will not fail him. I would appreciate if you keep the  
boy out of the infirmary. Have him blow in a paper bag."  
"Oh, I never thought of that," she looked aggravated. With a  
sigh, she turned and left.   
Snape glanced over at Harry, then back to Dumbledore. "I  
need to be return to my House, but first I need to speak with  
you."   
"Look," Harry broke in. "What's wrong?"   
"I am going to contact the parents," Professor McGonagall  
said. There was something about the tilt of her head that told  
Harry she was upset with Dumbledore. That also bothered Harry.   
Professor McGonagall was notoriously strict and critical, but she  
usually got along with the headmaster.  
"Harry," Dumbledore beckoned him into a small chamber. Snape  
followed them. Harry and Dumbledore both sat down, opposite each  
other. There was a third chair, but Snape stalked to the window  
and turned his back on them.  
"Nobody is dead, Volemort is not on his way to the school,"  
Dumbledore told him.  
"Does it have something to do with Rita Skeeter?" An awful  
thought occurred to Harry. "The Dementors haven't caught Sirius,  
have they?"  
"No."   
Harry's eyes opened wide. "He hasn't abducted anybody, has  
he?"   
Dumbledore looked at him gravely. "Harry, do you know rape  
is?'  
Harry's flinched, of all the trouble he had been imaging,  
this had never crossed his mind. "Yes. I've heard it on Muggle  
news," with furious effort, Harry fought down his panic. "Why?"  
"Draco Malfoy tried to rape Ginny Weasley tonight."  
Harry felt an odd ringing in his ears. He looked at  
Dumbledore, not comprehending his words.  
"I'm sorry to say it like that. I know this is a terrible  
shock. I won't insult you by saying she's alright, but he was  
not successful. Do you understand what I mean by that?"  
"I'm not a child," he shot back hotly. "Do you have  
Malfoy?"  
"Yes."  
Harry felt an intense wave of hatred for Draco Malfoy, Death  
Eater in training. Everything he touched, he destroyed. He  
remembered how he had tried to get Hagrid fired - and for no  
other reason than that he was Harry's friend. Or the delight he  
had taken in Cedric Diggory's death. Now . . . this."  
"We found an empty bottle of Ogdens Old Firewhiskey liqueur  
in his bedchamber. Some of the other Slytherins were taunting him  
because he lost his spot on the House Quidditch team."  
"Dumbledore, you should hold your tongue. Snape hissed,  
turning, around sharply. Harry was still numb with shock, but it  
didn't keep him from wondering at Snape's odd behavior. Snape  
had hated him for probably his entire life. True, they had  
reached an odd sort of truce after the Triwizard Tournament.   
Snape had publicly apologized for believing Harry had entered the  
tournament. Still, the Potion's Master didn't make it a habit of  
having anything to do with him -- unless he could get Harry in  
trouble.   
"It's the truth, Severus, you know my regard for the truth,"  
Dumbledore replied unapologetically.  
Harry took a deep breath, 'can I see Ginny?"  
"First we need your help," Dumbledore said. Snape turned  
back to the window. "Ginny is perfectly within her rights to  
demand that Malfoy be prosecuted. But I cannot allow that to  
happen."   
Harry thought back to the Triwizard Tournament's last  
challenge. It had been a very painful experience. Cedric's  
death still haunted him. To some extent, it always would. It  
hadn't been a very good night for Professor Snape either. Harry  
didn't like Snape, and he wasn't certain he trusted him, but he  
knew Snape was walking a tightrope. "It will be bad for you if  
Malfoy is brought to trial," Harry said, looking at Snape's  
backside. "Lucius Malfoy would say you should help Draco. He  
would be your enemy and you have quite enough enemies already."  
"I'll say this for you Potter, you're not stupid." He gave  
Harry the curtesy to turning to face him. "But it's more  
complicated than that. I witnessed the attack --I'll put your  
mind at rest, very little happened, though I suppose Miss Weasley  
might disagree with me. These type of trials are messy affairs.   
The public interest will be overwhelming. Two prominent  
families, two different Houses of Hogwarts. The victim is the  
famous Harry Potter's girlfriend. Lucius Malfoy will hire the  
best lawyers gold can buy. He'll also use his gold in other  
ways. Tell her I will not support her story. Tell her I will  
undermine it. Before I am done her reputation will be in shreds.   
If you care about her, you will convince her to keep her mouth  
shut. I don't particularly wish to see her ripped to  
pieces, but I will if necessary."  
Dumbledore's eyes lingered on Snape for a moment before  
returning to Harry. "We would have to go to court. It would be  
dangerous, our exposure would be considerable. Also, I have  
enough to do right now, I don't need this." Dumbledore didn't  
apologize, or explain. He didn't need to. Professor Dumbledore  
was the de facto head of the resistance against Voldemort. "I  
believe it would be in Miss Weasley's best interest to not take  
this . . . abomination beyond these walls."  
"What are you going to do? Give him detention," Harry bit  
the words out.  
"He'll be expelled. He'll be out of the school before  
sunrise."  
Harry ran his fingers threw his hair. It wasn't right that  
he go along with them. His loyalty should be with Ginny, who was  
his girlfriend, and to the Weasley family who had treated him  
like a son. His fingers brushed against his scar . . . his  
scar. What happened to Ginny was not the worst thing. "I'll  
talk to her," he said softly.  
"Thank you, Harry. She's with Madame Pomfrey."  
"I know the way," Harry got up and shuffled out the door.  
"Are you allright, Severus?" Dumbledore asked when Harry had  
left the room.   
"Voldemort not certain about me, but I'm still alive so I  
must not be doing too badly."  
"Severus, if at anytime you believe the situation has  
changed, I wanted you to get out," Dumbledore's eyes blazed.   
'You are quite worthless to me dead."  
"Death," his laughter was hollow. "I'd at least get some  
peace and quite. You need to keep watch on Potter," he changed  
the subject abruptly. "Voldemort is quite obsessed with him."  
"His name is Harry, Severus."  
"I know. Stupid name."  
"It wasn't your fault, Severus."  
"Wasn't it? I knew Draco was furious. I announced her  
detention to the whole class. I sent her to the dungeons by  
herself. If it hadn't occurred to me to go and check on her . .  
. " his voice trailed off. "Tell Potter that."  
"You could tell him yourself."  
"I can't talk to him. I've always hated him."  
"You were horrified by what you saw in the dungeon. Don't  
try to deny it. If you really hated Potter, you wouldn't have  
been that upset."  
"Maybe," Snape bowed to him. "I have to go. I have  
matters to attend to."  
"No matter is greater than the sorry condition of your  
heart,' Dumbledore called after him. "Running away isn't going  
to help." He got to his feet stiffly, thinking longingly of a  
hot bath and went to stroke Fawks. The phoenix had glided into  
the room a few minutes before. "I do worry about him," he  
murmured to the bird.  
  
*****************************************************************  
  
Harry stood outside the infirmary's closed door. His stomach  
was going a series of painful somersaults. He didn't know what  
to say to Ginny -- other than he'd like to strangle Draco with  
his bare hands.  
He knocked softly on the door before pushing it open. He  
could see the back of Ginny's flame colored head. She was  
staring out the window. Madame Pomfrey was hovering around her.  
"Hi," Harry said. "Professor Dumbledore said I could come  
in."  
Madame Pomfrey looked at Ginny. "I'll give the two of you  
some privacy." Ginny didn't say anything. Madame Pomfrey left  
without another word. Harry grabbed a straight backed chair and  
sat is close to Ginny. He straddled the chair and put his  
firebolt carefully to one side.   
"I guess I know how your Mum and Ron and Hermonie felt after  
the Triwizard challenge. They wanted to say something to make me  
feel better, but there was nothing to say. I was allright, but I  
just couldn't go into it all right then. It was too fresh."  
"I told them I was fine," Ginny said listlessly. "I mean, I  
know I'm not, but I'm also not some sugar confectionery which is  
going to melt in water. I thought McGonagall was going to start  
crying. And Madame Pomfrey," Ginny rolled her eyes.'  
"The mother hen treatment," Harry grinned.  
Ginny turned sideways in her chair a bit, he still couldn't  
catch her eye, but it was an improvement over talking to the  
window. Harry looked at her closely. She was white, she'd  
obviously been crying. She was wearing pajamas. There was no  
sign of her robes.   
"Madame Pomfrey healed my face before you got here."  
"Was . . . was it bad," Harry asked anxiously.  
"My mouth was all bruised, it wasn't too bad." She turned a  
little more in Harry's direction. "I put my wand down. I should  
have kept it."  
"Gin, you didn't know this was going to happen."  
Suddenly she looked up. "You know." She didn't sound  
pleased.  
"Er, well . . . Dumbledore told me. They thought I could  
help. Don't you want me to know?"  
"I guess not."  
"Ginny, it's going to be allright," Harry said. Even to his  
ears he sounded pathetic.  
It was as if this was the last straw. She jumped up. "Don't  
tell me it's going to be allright! Voldemort's back. I have  
loved you since I was twelve years old and you're first on his  
'who am I going to kill' list. My whole family is fighting  
against him. I'm not the stupid little girl who fell for Tom  
Riddle."  
"I'm sorry . . . " Harry swallowed, "sometimes I think of you  
with a long plait of  
red hair in a gingham nightdress. I guess a part of me would  
like you to stay little so I could protect you."  
"Let me get this straight," Potter. "You fantasize about me  
in a gingham nightdress."  
Harry couldn't help it, he chuckled. "I didn't say I  
fantasized about you like that."  
Ginny turned her face away abruptly. Harry cursed himself  
for putting his foot in it. Almost hesitantly, he touched her  
arm. "I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to say."  
She shook her head. "Harry, do you ever fantasize about  
me?"  
Harry swallowed hard. "Of course," he said in a very  
nonchalant manner.   
Ginny seemed somewhat surprised. "Really," she said, her  
voice squeaky. "I mean, you've never even really kissed me."  
"Yes I have," Harry said indignantly.  
"Not like in a Muggle film."  
Harry actually felt a blush rising to his cheeks. "Well . .  
. I mean, you're only fifteen, and I wouldn't want to do anything  
that your parents (or six brothers) wouldn't approve of.   
Besides, its not like there is a lot of privacy around here. I  
was thinking about it at the Yule Ball, but Snape was patrolling  
the gardens and I felt leery about giving him and excuse to point  
his wand at me.  
Ginny well remembered that night. Harry had been so handsome  
in his dress robes. They were out in the gardens, and just for a  
minute it looked like he was going to take her into  
his arms and really kiss her, not the polite peck he usually  
bestowed up her. Then Snape showed up and Ginny wondered if  
she'd imagined it all. She been over the moon when Harry started  
paying her attention, but also fearful. Sometimes she wondered  
who Harry loved more, her or her family.   
"Harry," she said softly. "Please kiss me."  
He stamped down his first instinct, which was to gape at her  
and exclaim 'now'. "Come here," he held out his hand. After a  
moment's hesitation she placed her hand in his. He drew her over  
to one of the infirmary's narrow beds and perched on the side.   
She acquiesced without a word. He looked at her for the longest  
moment. Harry wondered how old his parents had been when they  
had first kissed. He leaned toward her. His felt awkward. He  
didn't know where to put his hands. He finally closed his eyes,  
grasped her arms, prayed he was doing this right and lowered his  
mouth to her's. They clung together, two orphans of the storm.   
Harry drew her closer. Their embrace deepened. It was like when  
he'd first picked up his wand, the warmth, the magic, the  
rightness. He tangled his fingers in her hair and she  
moaned softly. One hand trailed down her neck, coming to rest  
above the soft curve of her breast.  
Finally they broke apart. Both were somewhat speechless.  
Harry managed to choke out. 'Was that enough like a Muggle film,  
Miss. Weasley?'  
Her face flushed bright red.  
"Gin," he cupped her chin. "You wouldn't be any different  
to me if Malfoy had succeeded." He lost himself in her big brown  
eyes, he remembered the sad way she'd stared out of the window,  
and the words came. "I love you." Harry didn't quite know what  
he meant by his declaration, but he knew it was the truth.   
"Oh Harry," she threw her arms around him. "I didn't think  
you'd ever really love me. Sometimes I thought you just dated me  
because I'm Ron and Fred and George's sister."  
"Ginny, Ron is my best friend, and I'm really fond of the  
twins, but I'm not that fond of them."  
There was a knock on the door. "Just a minute," Harry  
called. "Ginny, we got to talk. McGonagall sent a owl to your  
parents. They'll be here any minute. I'm surprised Ron isn't  
already here. Ginny," he took her hand. "I will respect  
whatever decision you make, but I don't want you to insist upon  
Malfoy being sent to Azkaban, or were ever they send creatures  
like him. You see . . . "   
Ginny interrupted him. 'I know. I might get Snape killed  
and it would be dangerous for the rest of us. Dumbledore spoke  
to me."  
"He did!" Harry exclaimed. "But he told me he needed my  
help to convince you."  
"Really, maybe Dumbledore thought you needed something to  
focus on. I don't want to testify in front of a bunch of  
strangers about . . . tonight. Dumbledore says he'll put me  
touch with someone to talk to who he trusts and that Malfoy's  
butt will be kicked out of here before sunrise. Plus, Snape  
feels guilty. That should keep him from giving out detention for  
awhile. I can live with it, Harry."  
Suddenly the sound of running feet, and a mournful stream.   
"Ginny."   
"I think your mother is here," Harry said.  
"I don't think I can live with that,' Ginny said succinctly.   
"Go tell them I'm sleeping and cannot be disturbed."  
"Ginny, Dumbledore will let her fuss for a few minutes then  
insist she leave you alone. You can live with it. After all,  
you called Voldemort by his name."  
Ginny grinned delightedly. "I did, didn't I."   
Harry picked up his broomstick and went to open the door.   
As he expected, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley knocked him into the wall as  
they rushed past him. Harry could see Ron down the hall, looking  
shocked. He closed the door and grabbed his best friend's arm.   
He felt it would be the perfect time to pay a little visit to  
Malfoy.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
